


The Shirts

by hi_im_dazey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little smutty, Can be read as female reader, Can be read as male reader, F/M, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Other, Reader insert for anyone who likes either Sam or Dean, This can be read as either Sam or Dean, This can be read as genderfluid reader, can be read as nb reader, some language, taking clothing off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 07:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18656089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_im_dazey/pseuds/hi_im_dazey
Summary: you and one of the brothers having a moment





	The Shirts

The Shirts

+++

Everything about him drove you insane. His smile, his hair, his body, his brain. He was protective and funny and loving.

On the day he finally realized you felt the same way about him as he felt about you, it was amazing.

He kissed you and you felt alive, he couldn’t stop kissing as he moved you both, a little clumsily and fumbling to his room in the bunker.

You felt his warmth and wanted desperately to feel his bare chest pressed against yours

He removed your tee shirt, his eyes so glazed over with lust he could barely figure out how. He almost ripped it in his passionate attempts to get to your bare flesh.

Your hands went to his jacket, you pushed it back off his shoulders and slid it down his arms, while never permitting your lips to part from his.

The jacket fell to the floor with a “THUNK” …there must have been a weapon or something in one of his pockets; you didn’t care.

He kicked it away into the corner while his hands roamed over your exposed skin.

You and he both worked the buckles on his shoulder holster, he set it on the bed without really breaking off from devouring your mouth with his.

Soft, delicious moans were floating away from your joined lips and you couldn’t tell who was making them. But you loved the sound.

You started unbuttoning his flannel shirt, silently cursing that he wasn’t wearing one with snaps, so you could just rip it open.

You were so frustrated by the time you got to the last button, that you did rip that one open. The button flew across the room.

You moaned “Sorry” into his mouth, he answered with a series of noises that you took to mean, “Who cares? It’s a fucking button.”

His hands were in your hair and on your neck and on your waist and everywhere at once… like touching you was the only thing that could save him. His mouth was spicy and sweet. You gave back as good as you got when his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You peeled the flannel down his muscular arms, only to have to pause with an increasing anger at his clothing, to find the buttons on the wrists and undo them so you could finally unwrap your prize.

His scent overwhelmed you as the shirt drifted to the floor.

You reached down to his waist band, your fingers found his belt buckle, and you pulled the hem of his tee-shirt out of his jeans.

You broke off the kiss to take the shirt over his head, and that’s when you saw it…

The ribbed tank top.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You grabbed your tee shirt and put it back on and left.

+++

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of humor that popped into my head while I was editing a chapter for Two Butterflies Down. It wouldn't leave me alone so had to write it out to get it out of my system.  
> Sorry.


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